


The Music of Love

by spikesgirl58



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E.
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-12
Updated: 2014-01-12
Packaged: 2018-01-08 13:04:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1132983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spikesgirl58/pseuds/spikesgirl58
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For some, it’s an instant moment of awareness.  For others, it takes time, time to find the courage, and perhaps a reason for why it might happen at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Music of Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [svetlanacat4](https://archiveofourown.org/users/svetlanacat4/gifts).



A song was playing.  It was a current popular song, but it was as alien to him as he was to this city.

Illya drained his vodka and made a face.  It wasn’t like the vodka back home… but he wasn’t home.

He’d met his new partner earlier in the week and, for a moment, felt as if this move had been a positive one.  The man’s smile was genuine and reached from his mouth up to his eyes.  His manner was relaxed and he’d even greeted Illya in his own language, a small thing, but one that had spoken volumes to Illya.  It elated and depressed him for it reminded him of just how alone he truly was now.

Now here he sat, alone with his less-than-perfect vodka.  The song ended and another one, just as foreign, began. He sat quietly, alone despite being in a crowd of people. 

“I thought I might find you here.”

Illya’s head swiveled in the direction of his new partner’s voice.    He started to get up, as protocol demanded back home, but the dark-haired man held up a hand and grinned instead.  

                                                                                                &&&&

They’d holed up in the back of a small bar, nursing their wounds and their exhaustion over a bottle of second rate whiskey.  There was a song playing, sad and longing, on an ancient jukebox.  It stirred a memory for Illya.

“Napoleon?”

“Hmm?”    

“Do you remember that first night in that bar so many years ago?”

 “I do, but what brought this up?”  Napoleon’s voice was soft from exhaustion.

“This song was playing.”

“You have a good memory.  I can’t remember what I had for breakfast yesterday or where.”

“That night you made me feel like a friend, not a threat.”  There was a long pause.  “I thought I’d lost you today.”

“I know.  I’m sorry.  There was no way to warn you about my plan.”

“You misunderstand.  I mean that woman… I thought I’d lost you to her.”  Illya paused to drink and listen to the song.  “Love comes in many forms, my friend.”

“It does.”

“And in many ways.  For some, it’s an instant moment of awareness.  For others, it takes time, time to find the courage, and perhaps a reason for why it might happen at all.”

“Illya…”

“Let me finish, before my nerve gives out.”

“You don’t have to; I already know.”

“You do?”

“I have for a long time.  I was just waiting for you to admit it.”

“And now that I have?”

“Well, partner, I believe the saying is the sky’s the limit.”  Napoleon leaned forward to offer a small kiss.

“The sky isn’t big enough.”

 

For the sake of reference – the song Illya listened to was _Love is a Many Splendid Thing_


End file.
